


tighten up on your reins

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 21:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19798546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: John's backed him up against a wall (and not metaphorically).





	tighten up on your reins

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely around 2x03.

"...and you have clearly instructed your dog to make sure I don't go anywhere I shouldn't," Harold finishes, looking at Bear, who's still on his doggie bed with his head on his paws, watching them both with bright eyes. 

"Finch," John breathes, and Harold's startled to realize how close John has come to him while his attention was on the dog. There's the barest hint of a smile curving John's mouth. "I just got you back. I don't intend to lose you again so quickly."

Some instinct makes Harold attempt to put some more space between him and John, but there's no place to go. There's a bookshelf behind him - _there's always a bookshelf_ , Harold thinks, fleeting, his mind attempting to cling to anything that isn't John so close Harold can feel his body heat. He should say something, probably something like _This is highly inappropriate, Mr. Reese_ , but the words refuse to form. 

Instead he says, "I didn't know you felt so strongly," and the lump in his throat eases almost immediately as John outright smiles. A very gentle hand cups Harold's elbow. The touch is so light he barely feels it through the double layer of shirt and suit jacket. He looks at John's throat, where there are a few creases in John's utilitarian white button-down, the one he wears like a uniform, and realizes he likes the way John's shirts seem to soften against the heat of his skin. Harold like his own clothes rather starched; he enjoys the illusion of the crisp fabric holding him up like a brace, even though he knows it doesn't truly. 

"You're overthinking things," John murmurs. "I can almost see the wheels turning."

His mouth moves of its own volition. "Have you branched out into comedy?"

John shifts, and the curve of his body now mimics the curve of his mouth. His expression is definitely one of amusement. "I have to be honest here... I'm a little disappointed that you didn't want me to come looking for you." He ducks his head slightly and his cheek brushes over Harold's; futilely, Harold wishes there was really enough starch in his shirt to keep him upright, because he's definitely trembling. 

"On the other hand," John continues, "I'm not disappointed in how being so close makes you shake like this. Unless you're afraid of me. You're not really afraid of me, are you, Finch?"

The sharp spike in Harold's heart rate is almost enough to make him dizzy for a second. His face feels very hot. "You know I don't appreciate it when you use that tone."

"What tone might that be?" John's leg presses against his, but without any real weight behind it. Harold could still slide out from between John and the bookcase, if he tried. If he wanted to. 

"The mocking lilt you get," he murmurs. 

"Oh, Finch, you really think I'm mocking you?" Now he's doing it on purpose, and Harold feels it as John's whole body hitches in amusement. "No, you're not afraid of me. But sometimes you think you should be."

This is the problem, Harold reasons to himself, with being a person who isn't the most adept at reading social interactions, while near constantly being around someone who has been trained to suss out the meaning in even the slightest flicker of someone else's eyelid. And John is still talking in that soft, low tone, "...I'd probably be a little afraid of me, too."

"Sometimes your propensity for violence takes my breath away," Harold admits, trying to keep with the program. 

"I hope in a good way?" John sounds honestly intrigued. 

_Sink or swim_ , Harold thinks, and makes a conscious effort to relax his muscles. "Yes," John says. The press of his thigh intensifies, and the grip on Harold's elbow tightens enough that he can feel the individual press of John's fingers. Harold lifts his hands from where they've been hanging uselessly at his sides and slides them around John's waist, under his open jacket. "Yes," John says again.

"You're wearing the bulletproof vest," Harold says, finding he's surprised by the discovery. He rubs his thumb along the padded-down edge of the plate where it molds to John's back.

"You can take it off me."

The edge of one of the shelves digs into his back even through his clothes, and Harold's startled to realize he'd backed that far up during their conversation. John catches on immediately, and slides his hand around Harold's body to rest between him and the bookshelf. The movement brings them even closer together. He wonders if he feels as warm to John as John does to him. 

"You do," John answers. The hand previously on Harold's arm slides up to loosen his tie, careful not to tug hard on the knot. Dry fingers undo the button. Harold catches his breath when John strokes a fingertip over the hollow of his throat. John gives him a knowing look, then brushes his mouth over Harold's, another light touch.

"Not here, John," Harold makes himself say. 

A warm exhale next to his ear. "Then where?"

"Take me to your apartment." The bed there is firm enough for Harold's back; he knows it is because he bought it, although he wasn't thinking about having sex with John when he ordered it. Except maybe he was. He's not sure exactly when that line began to blur out into nothingness. 

"I'll get the car," John murmurs. Instead of vanishing in a blink like Harold's used to, he draws away slowly, dragging his hand down Harold's back, then over his hip and down his thigh. Then he steps back. "You okay?"

"I'm not going to fall over, if that's what you're implying." Harold gestures towards the exit, and John saunters towards the stairs with an extra looseness to his hips and shoulders, clearly certain that Harold's watching. Bear lets out a quiet whine, then his tail thumps twice against the floor. Harold straightens first his tie, then his jacket, using the moment to regain some sense of control. It works, mostly. Then he picks up Bear's leash. "Well, come on, I'm sure we can sneak you into the building."


End file.
